1) Mary Flynn is a famous Irish model and actress who stars in her first film called Irish Rose. At the premiere party, she is the center of attention and feels jealous Declan Knight is jealous of her popularity. 2) Mary dances with a handsome stranger in the woods and eats an enchanted fruit that makes her feel young and energetic. However, when she returns to the party 100 years have passed and she is now an old woman, trapped in her aging body. 3) The story is a cautionary tale about the dangers of pride, jealousy and accepting gifts from strangers, as Mary's wish to remain young and beautiful forever is twisted and leaves her isolated from the world that has moved on

1. Irish Rose
'You were great, Mary!'
'When is your next film, Miss Flynn?'
'You must be thinking about an Osear now, Mary!'
The reporters all wanted to speak to her. AJÍ the
photographers took pictures of her. Her long, black. hair
and clear skin were every fashion photographer's dream.
Mary Flynn, Ireland's most photographed face, was famous
and beautiful.
Mary smiled her famous, beautiful srnile. She could not
ask for a better night. In all her eighteen years she had
never known such happiness. First a rich and world-famous
fashion model, and now a film star, too. It all seemed so
ríght. It was meant to be like this, she just knew it.
The truth was that Mary Flynn had always wanted to be
an actress. She wanted, more than anything else, to show
the world that she was not just a beautiful face. She was
intelligent too and tonight the world would know it.
It was 31 July 2004 — the first night of the film Irish Rose
in which she starred wíth the famous Declan Knight.
People were already saying that she was as good, perhaps
better, than he was — and he was Ireland's biggest filrn star.
He had been ín some big Hollywood films. But it was
Mary that the photographers loved. They always did. She
could tell. Everybody else in the film was forgotten once
she made an appearance. Declan himself knew this. She
saw it by the look on his handsome face. 'He's jealous!' she

2. thought as the taxi took them both to the hotel in Dublin
for the after-film party. 'He doesn't like the public loving
me more than him.'
Soon they were drínkíng champagne in the hotel.
Photographers took yet more pictures for che next day's
newspapers. The hotel had many mirrors in it and one was
/-just ahead of Mary as she stood next to Declan. She saw
hím ín the mirror and knew he was the best-looking man
o
in the room, even though he was well over thirry. She also
knew that everybody was looldng at her — not him. She
could see herself Ín the mirror, her beautiful long hair. her
beautiful red dress. Yes, this was her night all right. Hers
jo
and nobody elses.
'How about a few words from the new film star, Miss
Flynn?' asked a repórter.
Mary srrmed. She thanked everybody for their kind
words. She thanked the director and the other people who
had made the film. She aTso thanked her manaeer and her
vd*V>r
mother. Oh, and Declan, of course. He was good, too. Alí
the thines L L
people said about them Oarguing durine the
C*
C& f
O
filming weren't true at all. Not really. Declan looked red
and went to get more champagne. Sílly, jealous man. You'd
think he'd know better. Why, he'd even asked her out on a
date while filming - at his age! She had refused, of course.
Too oíd.
The director of Irish Rose, Chas Gorman, carne up to
Mary. He had always taken care of her. He whispered in
her ear and told her once again she was great - now she
could go and enjoy herself and leave the rest to him. Mary
knew she was great, though she never got tired of hearing
others say so. But now she needed to get away from the
A iry 'i '
oii

3. reporters and photographers for a whiíe.
As she walked away, she saw a handsome young man
with dark red hair across the room. He was íooking at her
with a smile on his face.
Mary was used to having handsome men around. She
expected no less. But this man was different. He had a look
in his eyes that seemed to say, 'I know what you want, I
know what you need.' His eyes looked deep into her own
eyes as though they were hungr'y for her. His eyes said diere
was nobody else in the room for him. Only he compietely
understood her. Only he, said his eyes, wanted the
intelligent woman behind the beautiful face in the
photographs. His smile was that of a man who wanted her,
both body and mind, more than any man she had known.
Mary felt her heart jump wildly. Or was it just the
champagne? She felt her face go red. She turned away from
the man - who was he to look at her like that? Mary
looked again. The man was gone.
The evening continued and it went wonderfully. Mary
was busy listening to lots of important people, who all told
her how great she was. She smiled and laughed and
laughed and smiled, but she ate very little. She did,
hpwever, have another glass of champagne.
Mary suddenly decided that she wanted to dance. There
was musíc playing, but it was too quiet; you couldn't
dance to it. And there was no dance floor! What kind of
party was this? Why was there nowhere to dance? Why
w?; there no real music to dance to? She was the Irish
Px>.;e and she needed to dance! The whole world must see
rhe beautiful, intelligent Mary Flynn dance on this, her
night of nights!

4. But there was nowhere. Everybody was talking, drinking
and eating, but there was no dancing. It was getting late,
too. It was a waim night and she needed some fresh air.
There were some glass doors open at the far end of the
dining room and she walked towards them.
'Mary, darling! You look so beautiful!'
it was Celia Jones, a famous English fashion model.
Mary knew Celia was jealous of her. 'Ah, well, let her be
jealous,' Mary thought. 'She's nearly thirty and will soon be
too oíd to model. She hates me because I'm younger and
more beautiful than she is, or ever has been. And I can act,
too!'
Celia was holding onto the arm of Declan Knight. She
looked pleased with herself. He was smiling like a boy with
a new toy to play with.
'You're so lucky to have a great actor Hke Declan to teach
you about film acting, darling!' Celia said while Declan
looked down at her with that stupid smile still on his face.
'I expect he's just like a father to you!'
'Thank you, Celia,' Mary answered. 'And you sound just
like my mother. But then you are almost the same age,
aren't you?'
Celia laughed weakly, then led Declan away towards
somebody else. She wasn't pleased.
'That got you, you oíd cow!' thought Mary, pleased that
she had made Celia feel uncomfortable. She turned and
walked quickly to the doors.
Mary feít hot. She needed to get outside. In just a
moment she was in the garden.
The hotel was beside Phoenix Park, the largest park in
Dublin. The hotel garden was right next to it, near a wood.

5. Mary walked past the people with drinks in their hands,
past the smiles and past the tables and chairs. She had
never realised the garden was so big. All at once she seemed
to be by herself in the garden. But she was not alone - the
handsome man with the dark red hair was also there. At
the back of the garden there was a gate that led into the
wood. As she walked to the gate, she heard music. It was
Irish dance music and it was coming from behind the gate.
So there was a dance! Why hadn't anybody told her? The
handsome young man was cióse by and she knew he was
looking at her. The man opened the gate. Mary knew he
wanted her to follow. She did, though she did not cióse the
gate behind her because she had to return to the party
soon. But, oh, how she wanted to dance!
Once she was through the gate she saw a light in the
middle of the wood. She srarted walking through the wood
towards the light. She saw that there were many dancers
there, all dancing to the wild music of violins, drums and
guitars. They were laughing loudly as they danced. The
women were beautiful, and the men were shouting with
happiness as the music played. They weren't students.
Maybe they were travelling people who were having their
own party. Mary didn't know who they were.
Then the man with the dark red hair carne up to her.
She asked if she had to pay to join the dance but he just
smiled. Oh well, she could always pay later. And he was
good-looking, after all. And she just knew he understood
exactly how she was feeling. She would dance with him.
But just one dance. The man picked up a bowl full of fruit
from somewhere and offered it to her. Mary was not sure if
she should accept. She remembered how, when she was a

6. child, her mother had always ro[d her not to accept sweets
from strangers.
But she was grown up now. And she had never listened
to her mother, anyway. She was hungry, for fun as well as
food. And the fruit looked so gr:en and red and tasty. She
made up her mind and took a p:ece of fruit,.a large round
green apple that was heavier than it looked.
When she bit into the apple it tasted sweeter and better
than any fruit she had ever had i.i her life. It was like fruit
from the gods. Next to it all the other fruit she had ever
eaten was dry and tasteless. She ate it hungrily. When she
had finished she found she was no longer hungry or thirsty.
All she wanted to do was dance. Just one dance - that was
all she wanted - then she would go back to the party at the
hotel.
The handsome young man was still next to her. He
offered her his hand. She took it.
Oh how they danced! The music filled the air and gave
her feet wings. The young man was laughing and dancing
as if he did not know how to stop. He said nothing, he
never spoke a word. But he picked her up and took her
hand and they danced as the wild music played. Mary felt
as if her life was meant for dancing, not for the cameras,
not for the cinema screen. What a wonderful time she was
having! She felt as if she could just go on dancing, dancing,
dancing and never stop!
The time! What time was it?
She had not given time a thought. She did not know if
she had danced for a few minutes or even half an hour. But
she had to return to the party. People would be asking
where their beautiful new film star was.

7. She dropped the man's hand and he seemed to
understand. No words were spoken, but he smiled. She
smiled back and she left. She could see the gate through the
trees. It was still open and she went to it.
She could see the lights of the hotel as she closed the
gate. It was strange, but the gate felt heavier than before.
And she felt very tired. Well, that wasn't surprising after all
that dancing. Even so, she realised she could not straighten
her back. Perhaps she had- hurt it a little while she was
dancing. A hot bath would soon put that right. It was time
to go home. She started walking towards the lights.
Her feet felt heavy. Clearly she had completely tired
herself out. It had been a long night, even for an eighteenyear-old. People were looking at her as she walked to the
doors of the hotel. Ah well - she was famous. She was used
to people looking at her. But then she saw that they were
new people. They were dressed differently in strange
clothes. Perhaps there was something else going on at the
hotel. She didn't remember any of the people. Another
party, maybe? Nobody had told her about it. Now people
were coming towards her. Did she want any help? Could
they help her? Mary knew she must look tired, but she
could take care of herself and told them so.
Still, she was tired. Very tired. Time to find her director,
Chas Gorman, and get him to cali for the car.
At last she got to the glass doors. They were open- and
she went in. What time was it? She had a gold watch on, a
Rolex that had cost a lot of money. It was a present from
Chas Gorman. She looked at her wrist, but somebody put
something like an oíd stick in front of her eyes. It looked
cry, as if it had been out in the sun for a very long time.
10

8. But the stick was wearing a Rolex. Her Rolex. She moved
her arm and the stick moved. Then she felt sick as she
realised what the stick was.
It was her arm.
Mary slowly turned to the mirror on the wall. The face
that looked back at her was that of an oíd woman. The
woman's hair was white and her skin was full of the many
lines of great age. And she was wearing her red dress. The
thin face was looking back at Mary with oíd eyes that were
afraid.
Mary Flynn, the Irish Rose, looked at the date under the
hotel clock and cried. But not even crying for a hundred
years could change the date that she saw:
31July2104.